


best of a bad bargain

by duustbunny



Series: fools rush in (where angels fear to tread) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angel Wings, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Angst, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Collars, Consent Issues, Ex-slave Castiel, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Roadtrip, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duustbunny/pseuds/duustbunny
Summary: [warning: summary containsspoilersfor previous installments]Months after giving up his grace to regain his freedom, Castiel embarks on a slave-freeing roadtrip along with Dean. Of course, such an endeavor is bound to attract Heaven’s attention at some point, and Heaven will not allow any slave to escape punishment,especiallynot Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: fools rush in (where angels fear to tread) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608742
Comments: 15
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> About five geological ages later, I'm finally posting the sequel to _a fair price to pay_. Hope you guys enjoy it!

The position is awkward. His knees don’t quite reach the floor, feet scrabbling for purchase on the cold concrete floor with what limited range of movement he can manage. His cock is trapped against the bed, rubbing against the bunched up covers under him with each thrust of Cas’ hips. Cas is pinning him down with a heavy hand between his shoulderblades, making it hard to breathe.

It’s perfect. 

“Harder,” Dean manages to gasp out. 

“No,” Cas says. He sounds a little out of breath, too, but not nearly as undone as Dean.

“Please, Cas, I-- I need it.”

The pressure on Dean’s back intensifies as Cas leans down to whisper in his ear. “I know.”

Dean wants to beg again but he can’t breathe and the fire that’s consuming him from the inside out is spiking, his muscles locking and his vision darkening and he’s coming, a fleeting eternity, eyes scrunched shut, jaw wide open. 

Oblivion ends far too brusquely as Cas lets him go for a second, repositioning his hold from Dean’s back to his neck and pressing him harder against the mattress, right into the damp spot where Dean drooled all over the sheets as he orgasmed. It’s a little gross but mostly hot as hell and just on the verge of what Dean feels he is allowed to want.

Cas’ thrusts speed up to the point of losing their rhythm.

“You close, Cas?” Dean rasps out, pinned too tightly against the bed to do much else.

“You... tempt me...” Cas sounds wrecked now and it goes straight to Dean’s spent cock. He feels like he could come again. He can’t, of course; not this soon, and it’s torture.

“Don’t hold back,” he says, not quite sure what exactly he means.

With one last thrust—hard enough to ram the headboard against the wall—Cas comes. Dean imagines he can feel each individual pulse and twitch inside of him as the rest of Cas hangs motionless in the moment, but everything is too tight and slippery down there to actually feel any details. 

All too soon, Cas rolls off Dean and drags himself up the bed until his head hits the pillow. Dean crawls after him and buries his nose in Cas’ neck like a goddamned dog. It’s pathetic, really. He sighs and throws an arm and a leg over Cas, too, for good measure. 

“I will call you to check in twice a day, as we agreed,” Cas says, stroking up and down Dean’s back with two fingers.

“Okay.”

“It will be fine.”

“I know it will.”

“Do you?”

“You gotta do this. We all did, at some point. Can’t have someone holding your hand forever.”

“I never needed to have my hand held,” Cas snaps.

“No, no, of course not,” Dean backtracks. After a moment, he adds, softly, “ _You_ didn’t. Look, it’s not you, Cas. The first time Sammy went on a solo hunt, I couldn’t take it, I had to follow him.”

He feels Cas stiffen under him. “I explicitly told you I wanted to do this alone. I would not appreciate having my trust betrayed.”

“Yeah, I know. I learned my lesson the hard way, I’m not about to make that mistake again. Besides,” he says, pushing himself up to look at Cas’ frowning face, “I won’t need to. This is, like, an entry level hunt. You could do it with your eyes closed.”

“I think I will keep them open, regardless.” Cas’ face remains serious, but there’s a hint of dryness in his voice that Dean has come to understand as humor.

Grinning, Dean flops back down, this time onto his back to allow their bodies to cool off. “I bet you’re scared shitless, though,” he teases.

“I am aware of the dangers.” It’s enough of a confession to wipe the smile off Dean’s face. 

“You can do this, Cas.”

“Certain precautions would not be amiss.” Cas sits up, his back to Dean, and reaches toward his nightstand. 

Dean sits up, too, concerned by the somber tone of Cas’ words. As Cas slides the drawer open, a bright glow lights up the room. He pulls out the glowing vial and examines it, runs his fingers over the dark-tinted glass and the attached silver chain with the most delicate of caresses, like he’s learning the shape of every individual link and every inch of curved glass. As if he wasn’t intimately familiar with practically every atom of the thing by now. 

“Precautions?” Dean parrots. He has dreamed about this exact situation countless times – Cas opening the vial and reabsorbing the grace it contains, his massive wings unfolding, pushing against the furniture and the walls and the ceiling, obscuring the light fixtures--

But that’s not what happens. Cas turns around, vial still closed, and slips the delicate chain over Dean’s head. “For safekeeping,” he says simply.

Dean looks down. The little glass container colors his chest blue under its glow, cold against his sweat-covered skin.

It’s... a lot. Cas is willingly giving him his grace, entrusting him with his angelic essence, surrendering to Dean his only chance of ever becoming whole again. What does one say to such a gift? ‘Thank you’? ‘I don’t deserve this’? ‘I didn’t think I could possibly love you more but here you are pushing me beyond limits I didn’t know I had and making me want to be the kind of man you think I am’?

“I can’t believe you’re trusting me with this,” is all he manages to get out. 

Cas’ eyebrows fly up. The expression of surprise sits foreign on his face. “The bond we share is profound, Dean.”

When it comes to Cas, Dean can’t speak without putting his foot in his mouth. It should be a running gag by now, after almost an entire year of it, except there’s nothing funny about it. Can Dean seriously not believe Cas is trusting him with his grace for safekeeping while he’s on a hunting trip? Cas has shown him time and again that his trust in Dean is boundless and unconditional. If Dean has a hard time believing it, that’s his own insecurities talking. Absolutely nothing that Cas has ever said or done has implied even in the slightest that Cas has any reservations about him. That he doesn’t love Dean just as much as Dean loves him, as impossible as that should be. Cas takes their relationship very seriously and Dean doesn’t want to make him think his efforts go unnoticed, because they don’t. Cas is generous in his affections and Dean appreciates every drop. “I’m sorry. I meant to say that I’m honored.”

Cas’ eyes fill with warmth at Dean’s words. Dean feels his own shoulders relax. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

“I’ll give it back to you safe and sound as soon as you get back,” Dean promises, nodding to emphasize how much he means it. But even as he says it, he feels his stomach twisting. Things have a way of not going according to plan for the Winchester brothers.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas has been gone for barely an hour; it’s stupid to miss him. He’s been gone countless times for far longer, from trips to the store to an entire three-day hunt with Sam and Eileen that time Dean caught the flu and had to stay in bed for a whole week. And yet here Dean is, moping behind a half-empty cup of coffee, wondering why the hell he didn’t insist Cas leave _after_ breakfast when he told Dean he’d just grab something from the Seven Eleven on his way out of Lebanon.

“He’ll be back before you know it.” Sam’s voice startles Dean. He didn’t notice his brother watching him from the hallway.

Dean shrugs, pretending he’s not missing Cas and worrying himself crazy like he’s both a puppy left at doggy daycare and its owner leaving it in the hands of a stranger. 

Sam hops up the step leading into the kitchen. “It’s a routine salt and burn.” 

“There’s nothing routine about any job, Sam. Ever. We’re always putting our lives on the line, every time, even though we’ve done dozens of salt and burns. Cas has done none--” he puts his hand up when Sam opens his mouth and amends, “--none by himself and without his powers he’s basically just a baby in a trenchcoat.”

“I hope you haven’t told him that to his face.”

Dean sighs. “I know he can kick some serious ass. I know it. I’m just...”

“Worried.”

Despite Dean’s unkind and very much undeserved words about Cas’ abilities as a hunter, he knows there’s always, _always_ a huge risk any time you take on a monster, no matter how strong or quick or experienced you are, and that’s a fact. One tiny mistake, one millisecond of distraction is all it takes and you’re toast. Or worse. In that sense, selling spells, while too close to becoming witches for Dean’s liking, kept him—and more importantly, his brother—mostly safe. It was a cost effective way to get money, and it forced them to cut down on the number of hunts they took on. 

Cas is as good at spellwork as he is at hunting, but for him, too, it’s only an income source, something to pay for fuel and ammo. Hunting seems to be his true passion just like it is for Dean. Dean always assumed that was because it’s as close to leading an army of angels as Cas can get now that he’s human and earth-bound. Cas hasn’t stopped being a soldier just because he lost his grace. Sure, he has no supernatural powers without his angel juice, but he was still one deadly dangerous motherfucker. 

And yet the churning in Dean’s stomach hasn’t gone away since last night. He touches his chest, feeling the shape of the vial under his shirt; it’s perpetually cold, never warming up against his skin. Did Cas somehow sense his imminent demise? Was last night some kind of goodbye? No, impossible. For one, Cas can’t die. He just _can’t_. It is... inconceivable. Not an option. No. And for another, last night couldn’t have been their last. It was great, awesome, terrific, but there is still so much they have still to try. Shapeless images run through Dean’s mind like a slideshow at top speed, too fast to really see anything. Over the past few weeks something has started to shift between them in that department, something Dean feels even though he cannot name. Unfinished business. Probably not big enough to make Cas’ spirit stay behind should he die... wait, can angels become ghosts? As far as Dean understands, they don’t have souls. But what would sex be like if Cas _could_ become a ghost? Dean wouldn’t be able to touch him, but he would certainly feel Cas’ icy cold caresses on his skin. He shivers with imaginary chills. Becoming a ghost would give Cas new abilities he doesn’t have as a human. Would give him an edge over Dean that--

“Ugh, Dean.” 

“What?” Dean asks dumbly, jarred out of his fantasy.

“Didn’t you have enough last night?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Just... move your bed away from the wall, please. I think all of Kansas heard you yesterday.”

“Wh-- I-- Y--” Dean splutters. It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts. “ _You’re_ throwing stones, Sam? Really?”

Dean’s question has the intended effect, earning him a capital-B bitchface. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eileen and I are always discreet.”

“Are you.” Yeah, they are, but if Dean pokes the bear hard enough, the bear will forget he heard his brother’s bed banging against the wall last night.

“Our business is our own, stay out of it,” Sam says before storming out. His tone is harsh enough to hurt. 

Well, Dean had it coming, he will admit to that. Not out loud, though. “You too!” he shouts at the empty doorway.

  


***

  


His mood improves drastically by lunch, when he gets a call from Cas.

“I’m at a gas station outside Columbia. The fuel gauge indicated the tank was almost empty.”

“Columbia? It’s one in the afternoon, Cas. You drive like a grandma.” 

“Speed limits are a safety measure, Dean. I intend to reach New Haven in one piece.” Cas’ dry reply tells Dean his jab was received as the playful teasing it was and not real criticism. Cas is getting better every day at interpreting subtle cues in conversation, even over the phone, and he can give as good as he gets. Dean doesn’t really miss the cluelessness from the early days of their friendship. Being mostly on the same page has saved them a lot of unnecessary misery. And Cas is so much fun to banter with.

“Whatever, grandma. Just, um...” he falters, grin vanishing. “Try to come back in one piece, too, okay?” 

“I will.” 

The certainty of Cas’ reply takes the edge off Dean’s apprehension, enough to let him focus on Baby for several hours after talking with Cas. She had an annoying grinding sound in the transmission that he had been meaning to investigate since the weekend. 

He gets dinner started by seven p.m. and half an hour later Sam and Eileen walk in lured by the warm, cheesy smell of chicken parmesan roasting in the oven. They sit at the table together like a family and yeah, that does make Dean’s heart ache a little more sharply, but he soldiers through it and if anyone notices, they don’t say anything. His phone rings when he’s almost done clearing his plate and as soon as he sees Cas’ name on the screen he rushes to his room, leaving Sam and Eileen to put away leftovers and load the dishwasher. 

“I missed you,” he blurts out as soon as he takes the call.

There’s only a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then Cas replies, “I missed you, too.” 

Dean feels like his chest is about to burst, so he changes the subject. “So, how’s the job going?”

“I’ve made very little progress so far. This afternoon I interviewed relatives of the first and third victims. Most of the information they provided was not helpful, but one of them did mention a witness. Tomorrow I will head to the police department to find out more.” 

“You’ll crack it in no time, Cas.”

“Not as fast as I would prefer. The drive here was long and my body needs to rest several hours tonight.”

Dean smiles. Cas is always annoyed by his human needs. “You eat yet?”

“A burger. You wouldn’t have liked it, the patty was thin and the bun had too many seeds.”

“Aw, thinking of me while having dinner, were you?”

“I thought of you most of the day. I understand that doing your first ‘solo job’ as you called it is a rite of passage for hunters and I am very eager to complete this challenge, but to be frank, this job is far less appealing by myself than it is with company.”

“When you come home, I’ll find us something fun to do together, a ghoul maybe. What do you say?”

“That is... one of the fun things we could do together.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean plops down of his bed, grinning. “What other fun things do you have in mind?”

“Eating ice cream.”

“Oh.”

“Off your back.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Is that something you would find enjoyable, Dean?”

It plays in Dean’s mind like a movie. He sees himself on his bed like he is now, except he’s lying face down, and—of course—naked. Cas is kneeling astride his thighs, bent over him, fire-hot tongue licking icy sweetness off Dean’s skin. “Yeah.”

“Would you be on your hands and knees, or on your stomach?”

“On my stomach.”

“And your hands? Where are they?”

The scene sharpens in Dean’s mind. His own hands, one on each side of his head, are pinned down, wrists encircled in an iron-strong hold. “You’re-- you’re holding them down.”

“You _will_ keep still for as long as I want you to.”

Shit. Fuck. Yeah. “Yes s-- Yes.”

“I intend to enjoy you for a long time, Dean. Consume you until I am sated.”

“Anything, Cas.”

“Anything I want, until I have wringed everything out of you. And if you behave, I might let you have some pleasure for yourself, afterwards.” 

Dean writhes in his bed, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other gripping the sheets in a tight fist. His cock is filling so fast it hurts.

“Or perhaps I will let you do it from the very beginning, but not allow you to reach completion. You will thrash and struggle under me, unable to slip your hands free.”

Dean feels exposed, like his mind is being read. “Fuck, Cas... please...”

“You may touch yourself now, if you need to.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He wraps three fingers around his cock and starts jacking off fast, not even bothering to take his shirt off first or pull his pants down, even though the situation warrants those little extra steps. He’s having phone sex with Cas, for god’s sake. It’s crazy. And even crazier than that, he just told Cas he wanted to be pinned down and Cas went along with it without missing a beat, like maybe it’s something he wants, too.

Too fast, he feels his muscles locking, his lower belly tingling. “I’m close.” 

“No,” Cas orders.

Dean grumbles in frustration, but his hand stills. Desperate for _something_ , he turns around on his stomach, placing the phone between his cheek and the mattress. The pressure on his cock is delicious torment. Hands by his head, he closes his eyes, recalling the image that was so vivid in his mind’s eye seconds ago. 

“I will take my time licking your back inch by inch and you will not move a muscle,” Cas says, voice tinny through the phone speaker. “I will drink the sweat off your skin and nibble on each vertebrae on the back of your neck.”

Dean shudders. He can almost feel Cas’ breath on his nape.

“I will position my hips on top of yours and nudge my way between your cheeks, sliding over your flesh, getting closer and closer to orgasm while you remain motionless and wanting. And when I come, I will sink my teeth on your shoulder until the skin breaks, and you will _let me_.”

“Yes, Cas, please, please, please...” 

“You beg so beautifully, Dean. I want to hear more of it.”

“I’ll beg!” Dean assures him, desperate. He can barely keep himself from wriggling his hips to get some friction on his cock. “I’ll beg as much as you want me to, do anything you want me to, just please let me come, _please_.”

“Oh you _will_ do anything I want you to. And you will enjoy every moment, and ask for more, and _thank me_.”

“Yes, fuck, I’m so close, Cas, I c-can’t...”

“I am close, too. You may come, now. I want to hear it.”

Wasting no time, Dean starts pumping his hips, thrusting against the mattress in a heat-fueled frenzy, panting into his sheets as the sweet friction takes him to the edge in a matter of seconds. He comes hard and the world fades away for a few blissful moments. He can’t see, eyes scrunched shut, and he can’t hear, blood rushing too loudly in his ears, but through it all his hands remain pinned to the bed. Slowly his senses come back to him and he registers how wet he is, soaked in sweat and with his crotch coated in come. His phone is slippery against his ear, and silent.

“Cas?”

“I’m here.” He sounds...

“Did you come?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus. Wow. That was... wow.”

“Yes.”

Dean almost blurts out something he’s not sure they are ready to have quite so out in the open, yet. Of course they love each other. He thinks. But Cas hasn’t said anything, so of course Dean can’t say anything, either. The last thing he wants is to make Cas uncomfortable, or make things awkward. “Hey, where are you, anyway?”

“Clover Bend Motel. It’s... well, there is a bed and running water, that is all I need at the moment.”

“Ah, the glamorous hunter life.”

They share a couple of seconds of comfortable silence before Cas speaks again. “I should go clean myself up and get ready for sleep.”

Dean rolls over onto his back, peeling himself off the mess he left. “Yeah, me too. You’ll call me tomorrow, right?”

“Twice a day, as we agreed.”

“Awesome. Uh, listen, Cas... what we did tonight, I... I liked it.” His cheeks burn as he forces the next words out. “Thank you.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line before Cas replies, “It was my privilege.”

  


***

  


Dean hangs up for the tenth time. “Nothing.”

“It’s still early,” Sam says. 

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“He’s probably just busy,” Sam insists. Behind him, Eileen is frowning. She quickly smoothes her features when she realizes Dean is watching her.

Dean turns back to his brother. “We agreed on twice a day,” he reminds him. 

“And it’s only three in the afternoon, you said it yourself. Give it another half hour. He’ll call and you’ll be glad you didn’t drop everything and run after him only to turn back before even reaching the interstate.”

“I’ll be glad to get on my way now,” Dean snaps.

Sam grimaces. “Just give it another half hour.”

  


***

  


He ends up hitting the road by nightfall. Sam and Eileen stay behind, just in case. The radio is off, the car silent except for the roar of the engine and the endlessly looping tone coming from Dean’s phone as he calls Cas once again. A warning message lights up the screen, telling him the battery is running low. Without letting go of the wheel, he one-handedly hooks the phone up to a portable power bank. 

“Hang on, Cas,” he whispers to the dark stretch of empty road ahead of him. “I’m coming for you.”


End file.
